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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434694">Sestina: Ignis in Ruin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianlibrarian/pseuds/lucianlibrarian'>lucianlibrarian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode Ignis Verse 2, Hospitals, Kissing, Love Confessions, Love Poems, M/M, Nostalgia, Pining, Poetry, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sestina, Stargazing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:41:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianlibrarian/pseuds/lucianlibrarian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that the sestina was created by a Provençal troubadour known for his tales of courtly love, and the poetic form achieves its haunting effects not via rhyme but via echo.</p><hr/><p>A sestina of love, longing, and memory from Ignis to Noctis.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sestina: Ignis in Ruin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia/gifts">Dark_Ruby_Regalia</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you're familiar with my writing, especially "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076007">Sink</a>," "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130976">I Remember</a>," and "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180159">this rose is our destiny, tearing us apart</a>," you might have noticed that I have a soft spot for the poetic—perhaps even the weird and the poetic.</p><p>It's true, I love me some avant-garde poetries. But what a lot of people <em>don't</em> know is that I love formal poetry almost as much! It comes from the same place, I think—that need to push boundaries as far as they'll go.</p><p>In any case, there's not much radical about this; I <em>was</em> a little floppyfloppy with the envoi rules at the end, but practically no one enforces those anyway. I was actually trying to work on Chapter 12 of "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180159">this rose is our destiny, tearing us apart</a>," but this happened instead. My failure is your gain? *le shrug*</p><p>Dedicated to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia">Dark_Ruby_Regalia</a>, who said there wasn't enough poetry in fandom and basically made this spring almost fully formed from my head.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Remember when you shaved my head while I slept? Your father<br/>
almost had yours, he was so angry. I swore it was nothing,<br/>
but it was definitely something. Must have worn that hot black<br/>
hat for a year before I finally got rid of it. Threw it out the window<br/>
of the Regalia. You laughed and laughed. I’d have done it again<br/>
if I’d known it would tickle you so. I would have bought so many<br/>
</p><p>hats, flung them from the hospital roof as nurses stuck their many<br/>
needles and tubes into you. But you were eight, I wasn’t your father,<br/>
and it wouldn’t have mattered. I heard you cry for him again and again<br/>
in your sleep, and I wished you would cry for me. We said nothing<br/>
to each other for weeks—just stared at walls, tiles, out the window—<br/>
until I left or you fell asleep. Finally, you grabbed me by my sleeve one black<br/>
</p><p>night and pulled me into your hospital bed. My face buried in your black<br/>
hair, I almost didn’t hear you say, <em>Don’t go, Iggy.</em> You’d done this so many<br/>
times before—<em>remember when I chased ghosts out your window?</em>—<br/>
that when the guards found us together, they didn’t call your father.<br/>
When I saw the sun kiss your cheeks, I knew there was nothing<br/>
I wouldn’t do for you. I’d considered it when you called me <em>brother</em>, again<br/>
</p><p>when you gave me that skull pendant I’d never take off again.<br/>
I was certain, though, when that light hit you, sparked the black<br/>
strands of your hair like fireworks, like meteors. Nothing<br/>
in the skies ever came close. Tonight, though, the many<br/>
stars <em>do</em> remind me of you—of nights sneaking past your father,<br/>
all your nannies, out that one unmonitored window<br/>
</p><p>to your secret stargazing spot. It was a near-perfect window<br/>
of sky, where the Wall was <em>just</em> translucent enough. Then again,<br/>
maybe we weren’t so sneaky after all. Maybe your father<br/>
knew, thinned the Wall just enough to let us peer into the black<br/>
and see what lay beyond. I’m sure he died with as many<br/>
secrets as he did regrets. You know there was nothing<br/>
</p><p>we could have done, so when you return, I won’t do <em>nothing</em>.<br/>
I’m already scheming, already searching for the secret window<br/>
I can lead you through to the dawn. Noctis, I waited too many<br/>
years to tell you I love you. I said it once in Cape Caem, again<br/>
in Altissia, and I’ll repeat it through kisses in your starshower-black<br/>
hair, before you face Ardyn armed with the sword of your father.<br/>
</p><p>The real World of Ruin is the many nights without you, becoming my plan and nothing<br/>
more. Sometimes, though, I dream of your father watching us through his office window—<br/>
I’m wearing that stupid black hat over my hair, and you yank it off, laughing like a child again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those who aren't familiar with the sestina form, the rotation of the end words is actually quite regular and mathematical. If you number them as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, they group in pairs to add to 7 (6+1, 5+2, 4+3), and if you graph the algorithm, it creates a spiral (see more at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sestina">Wikipedia's summary of the sestina</a>).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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